


31 Days Hath Whumptober

by the_wrambling_writer



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blood, Gen, Hangnails, Insomnia, Mentions of kidnapping, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Sleep Deprivation, Tony Stark acting as Peter Parker’s parental figure, Violence, Vomiting, Whump, Whumptober, author has no medical knowledge except the internet, sensory overloads, stab wounds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-07-23 12:31:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16159028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_wrambling_writer/pseuds/the_wrambling_writer
Summary: Thirty-one days of hurting Peter Parker.





	1. October 1: Stabbed

**Author's Note:**

> Please keep in mind that this author has little to no medical knowledge. The depiction of stabbing in this fic is probably inaccurate. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy.

Mystery Mask was really fucking up Peter Parker’s evening.

Peter had been out on patrol since school had ended for the day, fighting crime, saving cats, and generally being cool and kicking ass. All was fine until he caught sight of Mystery Mask.

Mystery Mask was what Peter called every generic bad guy with a cheesy disguise. Turned out there were dozens of masked villains that ran around Queens causing chaos. ‘Cause why not? Why not make Peter Parker life harder than it already was?

For a while, Peter thought he was gaining the upper hand. He was about to web up the offending criminal when Mystery Mask fled the other direction. The teen vigilante searched for him, ready to web him up. Suddenly, he heard a loud noise behind him.

He turned around — and immediately received a punch to the back.

What the fuck?

Peter fell to his knees, gasping for breath. The teenager looked around wildly, unsuccessfully searching for Mystery Mask. The tricky bastard had fled as soon Peter had been taken down. Now Peter had failed his mission and been wounded.

Great.

A tingling sensation seized him. It was like the strange, sort of numb sensation you’d get if your leg fell asleep. Peter stood up. He felt kind of shaky, but he couldn’t put a finger on what was wrong.

For a moment, he considered calling Mr. Stark. Would his mentor be annoyed? He was busy guy with more important things to do. Peter didn’t want to worry Tony over a simple hit.

Rivulets of a strange, warm liquid ran down his back and stomach simultaneously. Peter glanced down, nearly passing out again as he did so.

The tip of the knife protruded from his chest. An entrance, an exit.

Peter fought the urge to scream, to cry, to throw up. He did none of those thing. Instead, the vigilante collapsed on sidewalk. How humiliating.

Peter’s instincts screamed Take out the knife Take out the knife, but the nerd part of knew taking out the weapon would … well, it wouldn’t be pretty, that’s for sure.

Peter could feel the heat, beginning with the searing pain of the wound, but quickly spreading throughout his body. The nausea came without warning, threatening to overtake him. Peter’s mouth filled with sticky saliva. Bile rose up into his throat.

Fuck.

Peter vomited. Blood from his punctured gut spilled onto the pavement, along with his half-digested pizza. The pain almost made him black out. His vision swam.

For a while, Peter remained motionless, lying in a puddle of his sick. The sounds of the city continued without him. Clash, crash, clang. Crash, clash, clang.

Peter was rapidly losing blood. His uneven, painful breathing became worse with his panic.

He gave up trying to be strong. The pain was simply too much for him. Way, way too much. No one was there to call him weak. Might as well let go.

Peter cried. He wept from the pain, from the feeling of helplessness. He cried from the absolute certainty that he would die. He wouldn’t get to say goodbye to Ned, to Happy, to Mr. Stark. He was going to leave Aunt May all alone. Peter couldn’t take it. He didn’t want to die.

He knew who he needed to call.

“K-Karen,” he struggled.

“Yes, Peter?” asked his AI.

“V-v-vitals.”

Karen paused for a millisecond.

“Peter, you’ve lost about two and half pints of blood. You also have a punctured spleen and diaphragm. My information suggests that you are rapidly approaching a state of shock.”

“Uh.” Peter was finding it harder and harder to breathe.

“Would you like to speak to the boss?”

Peter sobbed. “Y-yes.”

His mentor’s voice came on. Mr. Stark seemed to be in a state of panic.

“Kid, what the hell is going on? Your vitals … oh God, what happened?”

“I’ve been - I’ve been stabbed.”

“You’ve been what?”

“Stab.”

“What? Are you sure?”

Peter made a noncommittal noise.

“Okay, yeah, that would be pretty hard to miss,” Tony conceded. “Stay on the line with me. I’m tracking your location. What happened?”

Peter struggled to respond. “Uh … knife. Mask. Fight.”

“Let me get this straight, Peter. A bad guy in a mask stabbed you while you were on patrol, right?”

“Yah.” Peter didn’t understand what was so complicated about that statement.

“I’m on my way. Don’t hang up.”

“ ‘M’kay,” Peter mumbled.

Things stayed that way for several minutes. Tony rambled on and on, trying to distract his young mentee. After a while, Peter’s eyelids became dangerously heavy. Sleep.

Tony paused. “Hey kid, answer me. Answer me, Peter!”

“ ‘m sleepy.”

“Shit. Stay awake, Peter.”

“But … wanna … sleep…”

“No, kid. Don’t sleep. Whatever you do, don’t sleep,” his mentor said urgently.

“But —“

“Don’t sleep!” Tony nearly shouted. “I’m almost there. I promise.”

Tony promised. Peter believed him. His mentor was Iron Man, and Iron Man could do anything. He would stay awake. He wouldn’t leave Mr. Stark. What kind of person would he be if he did?

Peter held on for as long as he could. He really did. He didn’t realize his eyes were closing. He barely registered the flash of red and gold in the sky. He didn’t notice the unholy scream that came from from the man in the metal can.

Peter’s memories were a blur from that point on. He could recall the outline of a face awash with concern, a pair of strong metal arms, the cold of the evening wind.

Soon, he could remember nothing at all.

—————————————————

Peter Parker was awake.

Peter Parker was awake, and his mentor was sitting at his bedside, looking ready to explode.

“Um, hey Mr. Stark.”

Tony simply stared at him. “Thank God you’re alive.” He squeezed Peter’s hand hard.

“Mr. Stark —“ Tony cut him off.

“Kid, I’m gonna try to tell you something. In the gentlest, kindest way possible. Promise,” Tony said.

“Uh, what?” Peter said weakly.

“That was stupid. That was incredibly idiotic, Peter. Not calling me the second you realized you were injured? Letting yourself bleed out onto the pavement? You could’ve died, kid. You could’ve died. You know I couldn’t … I can’t lose you.”

Peter flinched. “I’m sorry.”

Tony rubbed his forehead. The kid was giving him a massive headache. “Shit, kiddo, you don’t need to apologize. But do you get what I mean? There’s no shame in yelling for help. Especially when you’ve been stabbed.”

Peter averted his eyes. “I have an identity to protect, Mr. Stark.” 

“I know that. That’s why you have me on call.”

“I didn’t want to bother you.”

Tony let out a frustrated groan. “Kid, you never bother me. Okay, ignore that. What I mean is that if you’re hurt, I need to know. What’ve I hadn’t gotten there in time? Huh?”

Peter sighed. “I-I get it.”

Tony paused. “Good. You were lucky, kid. Extremely lucky . The doctors removed the knife, or course, removed your spleen, and they’re taking steps to heal your damaged lung and diaphragm.”

“Uh, you’re calling that lucky?” Peter questioned.

“Comparatively, yes.” Tony scooted close to him and ruffled his curls. “Right now, all my little spider-baby needs to do is rest.”

“But … I have homework.”

“You’re excused from your schoolwork until you’re back on your feet.”

“But I like school!”

“Shouldn’t have gotten stabbed, then. For now, all my little spider-baby can do is rest.”

“Are you gonna be the one taking care of me?” Peter teased.

“ ‘Course, kid,” Tony said. “You mean a lot to me.”

Peter could tell he meant it.


	2. October 2: Bloody Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter prompt for today. I wish I had had more time to write this prompt, but I tried my best.

His fingers were bleeding again. 

Monday morning. English. First period. Peter Parker sat in the last seat of the second row of the classroom. Each student either wanted to sleep or die. The teacher droned on and on about the same subject. She was trying to shove nonexistent symbolism from  _ Fahrenheit 451  _ down their throats. The bright morning sun attempted to fry them. Flash Thompson shot him dirty looks and mouthed  _ Penis Parker _ while their instructor had her back turned. Sadly, this was tame for the bully.

All in all, Peter was not having the best morning. Ned wasn’t in this class, so he was bored as hell. He hated English. Some teachers could make the subject interesting, engaging, and enjoyable. This teacher did not have that particular gift. 

Peter gave up trying to pay attention during the lecture.  _ I’ll learn it later _ . Liar. Instead of taking in the lesson, he stared at the wall, biting and picking at his nails. This was a bad habit that Peter had been attempting to break for quite a while. Luckily, his healing factor had destroying his own fingers more difficult. 

Difficult, but not impossible. 

Peter glanced down at his hand. Another hangnail from the gnawing and grinding. He tore off the bit of nail, along with the skin attached.

It  _ hurt _ . He’d done it dozens of times in the past, but it never got less excruciating. Peter winced but ignored the pain. 

He squeezed his finger. Blood oozed out of the wound, drops falling to his palm. 

For the rest of class, Peter proceeded to rip off his painful hangnails. His  _ six _ painful hangnails. It was more fascinating than the lesson, which was sad. Peter’s accelerated healing acted quickly to repair the damage. The wound scabbed over. The size had shrunk, but the evidence of the injury was still there. His hands were covered with dried blood by the time the bell rang. 

“Class is dismissed,” mumbled his teacher. Peter awoke from his stupor. As he rose from his seat, he bumped his fingers against the desk. Immediately, his scabs broke open and began to bleed again. 

_ What to do? What to do? _

Peter spied a large pump of hand sanitizer. Hope! He squeezed a large glob onto his hands. 

Funny how easy it is to forget common sense. 

Peter gasped from the sudden, burning sensation of pain.  _ Fuck.  _ He stamped his foot from the shock of it. Both his teacher and his classmates were giving him strange looks. 

_ Gotta toughen up, Parker.  _

He gave a forced, painful grin and marched on to his next class. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt credits to @la-vie-en-whump on tumblr!


	3. October 3: Insomnia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I’m super behind on these, and I’m so sorry! Know that I will be completing this behind schedule. 
> 
> As always, these are done with minimum research. I beg you to overlook any errors. th
> 
> Warnings for mentions of panic attacks and sensory overloads (not graphically described), insomnia, and psychological torture.

“Please. Make it stop. Make it  _ stop _ . I wanna sleep,” Peter begged, in tears. 

“Kid -“ Tony started to say. 

“Please, Mr. Stark, I - I just want to - but I  _ can’t _ -“

A look of pain crossed Tony’s face. “It’s okay, Pete. You’re alright.”

“But I  _ want  _ to -“

“You’ll get to. Don’t worry. I’m - I’m gonna get us out of here. We’ll be home soon. It’ll be okay. I promise.” 

Tony just wasn’t sure he could keep that promise. 

He smoothed back the kid’s hair. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, kiddo.”

Peter shook his head. Dark, heavy circles had formed under his eyes, which were bright red from tears and exhaustion. Those evil bastards. They had been taken without warning, snatched off the streets by people who delightened in torture - especially the torture of superheroes. 

Tony glanced around the tiny room. There was nothing else but bright lights and large speaker, which emitted a low  _ hum _ . 

For the billionaire, the harsh lighting and the buzzing noise acted as a mere annoyance. He could tune it out. Sure. But the kid? With his enhanced senses? This was literal torture. 

The place drove the kid practically mad. He experienced panic attack after panic attack. He went through terrible sensory overloads. Seeing Peter in such a high amount of distress turned out to be more than Tony Stark could take. 

Even worse than the effects of Peter’s heightened senses was the complete impossibility of sleep. Neither of them were able doze off. This was especially hard on Peter. 

At times, the lights dimmed considerably as the noise almost disappeared. During these brief periods of respite, the two would collapse, exhausted and drained, only to awaken from a loud  _ beep. _ Tony was used to abrupt awakenings. He could deal with insomnia if he had to. Peter was a whole different story.

Lately, those times of rest had been short, few, and far between. They were lucky to get ten minutes of actual sleep before the awakening. 

The constant lack of proper sleep took its toll on them. Peter had been crying for hours. His pain and discomfort were too much to bear. Tony was completely helpless. _Shut off the light_ , he thought. _Stop the noise._ _Let him rest. Let_ me _rest. Please._

As if in answer, the lights suddenly faded to a faint glow. The noise became a simple echo. 

Peter looked up, relief etched onto his face. Tony gave a small smile. 

“Sleep,” he said. “When the noise comes … I can’t block it out. I can’t make it go away. But until then … I’ll keep you safe.”  _ We’ll make it out of here. I promise.  _

“Mmm,” was all the teenager could reply, already on his way to dreams. 

Peter finally slept, leaning on his mentor’s shoulder. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt credits to @la-vie-en-whump on tumblr!

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt credits to @la-vie-en-whump on tumblr!


End file.
